On A Silver Platter
by VampedVixen
Summary: With the power of Persuasion, Sylar makes Claire an unwilling murderer. Very dark. Torture. Gore.


This is where it started.

This was where Sylar would finish it.

Union Wells High School, in Odessa, Texas, where Claire once evaded the murder he planned for her. That first plan worked out so well in his head, from the part where Sylar ripped her brain from her cold, dead corpse to the part where he became so invincible and unstoppable he could do anything or be anything. Claire's death was to be the first step in reaching overall domination and the seat of the presidency. Sylar missed one important factor in that scheme, one pathetic human by the name of Peter Petrelli. Plan A failed miserably; this one was much better.

_"Come here and bring the autopsy tools." _His voice overlapped with itself, creating rippling waves of sound that echoed around the darkened gymnasium. This new trick he picked up from a young wallflower in Canada, a teenager who couldn't get anyone to listen to her until she discovered she was special. Just like Eden.

Each step was a struggle for Claire, the command given acting against the desire to run, to hide, to do anything but enter that room. Sylar controlled every part of her, from her head to those toes he used to cut off when he got bored. The only part that wasn't under his total and complete control were her eyes, those deep blue eyes from which shown such immense fear. It was delicious; as was the vinyl nurse costume Sylar picked out for her to wear that night.

He had prepared her well for this, keeping her tied up for weeks while whispering details of the plan in her ear. It took a while for the pieces to fit together and for the other captive to be caught but here they were tonight, all together.

"Your niece is adorable," Sylar smirked down at his other captive, the boy laid stretched across the wooden table. Peter was strapped there, unable to move. "It's a shame she's going to get your blood all over her nice little outfit."

"You're sick." Peter replied. His eyes darted over to Claire, who was pushing a metal cart filled with all sorts of sharp, shiny implements. As Claire met his gaze, her eyes went wide but her body refused to yield control back to her. Unable to help her, or himself for that matter, Peter returned his attention back to the man leaning over him. "Why are you doing this?"

"This is simply revenge, Peter." Sylar shook his head, speaking as plainly as possible. It was simple really, the need for revenge was a human trait, one that couldn't be gotten rid of by evolution. Even if he could have eliminated that drive, Sylar wouldn't have wanted to. This was just too much fun, being in the driver's seat and ending their meddling through force. He spoke in slowly, giving deadly thought to each word. "The two of you have been screwing with my plans for far.. too.. long."

Claire arrived next to them, the cart bumping against the table. Up till that point, Peter had been doing a good job of keeping his emotions in check, not letting himself get too scared or screaming like most of Sylar's other victims. As he watched Sylar pick up each tool and examine it, the mask started to fall and the brave, dashing hero closed his eyes tightly.

It was a small sign that Sylar was getting to him, that Peter wouldn't be able to play the brave, dashing hero until the end. It was just enough to go on, to play with. _"Open your eyes."_

Peter did as he was commanded. A scream was threatening to escape him, but he buried it back down, pushing all emotion aside. Within inches of his face, Sylar wiggled the metal instrument he was inspecting, allowing Peter to see it in its full glory. The muscles in Peter's face tightened as he watched it pass in front of him. He took a shuddering breath in through his nose, but made no further noises.

"This is called a hammer-with-hook, for obvious reasons." Sylar pointed to the side of the tool that looked like the head of a hammer and then to the bottom, which resembled a fishing hook. "This nifty little tool is used to separate the calvarium from the lower skull."

He tapped it against Peter's head, causing the boy to jump against his binds just slightly. This only caused Sylar to laugh at the helpless fool trapped in front of him. It was moments like this made him certain he had chosen right by walking this path into the dark side of life.

"Then you just yank the calvarium away and the juicy insides are waiting there for you. Its just like cracking a walnut but tons more satisfying. I usually don't bother with tool like these, it's much more fun to rip people apart with my powers." He handed the tool to Claire, who accepted it with as much reluctance as she could manage while Sylar still held total dominion over her. "But since it is your niece's first time and she doesn't have abilities anywhere near as powerful as mine, I thought she might need a little help."

Sylar shoved Claire to the top of the table, so she could stand over Peter and ready herself for the following task. She dreaded the words that she knew were coming; this was all part of the fun. _"Claire, I want you to cut your uncle's head apart, rip out his brain and feed it to me."_

Tears fell from Claire's eyes, dropping like rain onto Peter's forehead. Her hand trembled, as Sylar handed her the bone saw, the first of the tools she would be using that night. She wasn't used to holding it, didn't know how to use it effectively. She fumbled and the saw fell to the ground, clanging against the floor and echoing around the room.

"Well, what are you waiting for, _pick it up."_ Sylar told her, taking in each moment of this torture like a kid in an amusement park. The sights, the sounds, each sensations was something he wanted to remember. Memories like these would serve him well on those long, boring nights spent traveling from one victim to the next.

Claire retrieved the tool, holding it across Peter's forehead. The boy below her tried to sound as reassuring as possible, though they all knew he was running out of options. "Claire, listen to me, you can fight this. Sylar's not as strong as he thinks he is. He's just a fucked up asshole on a power trip." The saw touched his forehead, its teeth resting against Peter's skin as Claire continued to sob. "You're stronger than him."

"Wait, something's missing--" Sylar crossed his arms, trying to figure out the missing piece to make this scene complete. "Oh, I know.. Claire, _smile."_ She did so, a manic grin spreading across her lips. It was picture perfect, if only Sylar had remembered to bring his digital camera. "This is a happy occasion. You're taking your first victim. From now on, you'll always be like me.. a killer."

"Don't listen to him, Claire." Peter shouted, through the pain of the saw as it started splitting the skin of his forehead. Her unwillingness to go through with this task only delayed his death, making each part of this torture painfully slow. "Whatever happens, you're not the one who's doing this-- don't you dare blame yourself for this, do you hear me? Don't you dare give in to the crap he's telling you."

She couldn't respond, all power of speech stripped from her. Instead, Claire kept cutting, slicing away at his skull bit by bit. It didn't take long for Peter to start screaming an almost animalistic scream. Sylar had to commend them; they'd fought hard. This was the end though, the end to their mucking around in his plans, the end to their pathetic little lives, the end to everything that was so good and grand and perfect about them.

As the pain reached new heights and blood seeped from Peter's forehead, he bucked against the straps that held him in place. Arms and legs kicking wildly but were still unable to get any momentum or escape. He raged against his death until there was no more fight left in him. Even the rapid cell regeneration ability he'd picked up from Claire years ago in this same high school was no match for these instruments of destruction. Peter Petrelli closed his eyes and was no more.

The top of his head fell to the ground, revealing tasty, squishy inside bits. There was a hollowness in Claire now. Her eyes were blank as she scooped up pieces of her uncles brain, placing them in the small silver bowl sitting on the cart. It oozed through her fingers like raw meat but she was careful not to spill a drop of the precious gray matter.

When Claire was done, she picked up the bowl and moved over to Sylar with it. He shook his head as she came closer, _"Not like this. Kneel down to me and then give me my meal."_

Claire fell to her knees, raising the bowl above her head, like an an offering made to a king, or a god. With her nurse costume splattered with Peter's blood, the boy laying dead and decapitated on the table and Claire make him an offering, this had to be one of Sylar's greater moments. He dug his hands through the brain meat, taking a good chuck, brought it to his mouth and slurped it down. Delicious. A five star meal delivered by a five star wait staff. Zagat's would be impressed.

Swiping the bowl out of her hand, Sylar devoured his meal as he pulled one last trick on Claire. _"I release you from my power. Do what you want from now on."_

She collapsed off of her knees, pulling herself into a fetal position. Bound by the power of his new ability, Claire could rely on him to propel her through her actions. Now, after being released, she didn't know what to do, how to move in a life without her uncle by her side or in a life where she had killed him. Suddenly, she raised herself up on her hands, throwing up on the gym floor. Her hair dangled in the mess, as she coughed back a few sobs.

Sylar smiled, knowing that he was witnessing the total and complete destruction of Claire Bennett. She was mumbling something while starring at the gym floor but he couldn't understand. Taking another bite of Peter's brain, he shouted, "If you're going to say something, speak up. I can't understand a word that's coming out of your mouth."

Claire turned her head, looking much like a broken animal. Her hair was a mess, the cute little nurse's cap twisted and pulled through the messy, tangle of blond locks. Her mouth still dripped with the last remnants of her breakfast. Blood was splattered across her outfit, a morbid mess of Peter's vital fluids. It was hard to tell that this girl had once been the pretty, little cheerleader that made all the attention in this high school gym gravitate towards her. She was repeating a phrase, three simple words, over and over again. "Please kill me, please kill me, please kill me, please kill me--"

He cocked his head at her, curious over his annihilation of her spirit. This may have been his best job yet, something to be proud of in the days ahead. He bent down close to her, moving his hand over her trembling shoulders. Mercy was not shown often in his job; especially not to those who had been so detrimental to his work before. He knew he shouldn't do it. It would just let her off easy. Nevertheless, Sylar had to ask, "Is that what you really want, Claire?"

The girl nodded eagerly, choking back her tears.

"As you wish."

He traced a line across her forehead, waiting for her to scream but she did not. Too lost and broken, Claire only smiled as he gave her the only gift a murderer could give someone, the release from the cold, harsh realities of life and any possible peace the afterlife would deliver.

-End-


End file.
